Voices In Their Heads
by butterfly04
Summary: When Ron finally admits to himself that he fancies Hermione, the voices in his head are urging him to tell her, but how the bloody hell does he do it?
1. What's Wrong With Him?

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything in this story besides the plot – everything else belongs to the brilliant J K Rowling.

A/N: This is just a fluffy Ron/Hermione shipper written just for kicks; hope you enjoy it, and R/H forever!!

**Voices In Their Heads**

**Chapter One: What's Wrong With _Him?_**

Ron Weasley walked down to the common room alone. It was Sunday morning and, as usual, he hadn't bothered to rise along with his roommates.

As he reached the bottom step he sighted his two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, sitting together near the fireplace and laughing at a drawing by talented artist and fellow classmate Dean Thomas. The drawing depicted the hated former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Headmistress, Dolores Umbridge, being slaughtered by an army of menacing Chocolate Frogs. At the sight of Harry and Hermione laughing together, Ron experienced a rather sudden pang of – was it jealousy? But what reason would he have to be jealous? Unless – no, couldn't be. Shaking off the thought, Ron greeted his friends.

"Morning, Ron," Hermione said, smiling at him. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little bit strange."

"Stranger than he normally does?" grinned Harry, ducking to avoid the Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Bean that Ron flicked at his head.

"I'm fine," insisted Ron, feeling his ears starting to turn red and hastily changing the subject. "What's that?"

He was pointing at an envelope sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair. Hermione at once looked uncomfortable and mumbled, "It's just a letter, nothing important –"

"Who from?" Ron asked quickly, even though he thought he knew the answer.

"Viktor," said Hermione quietly, not looking at Ron. Harry glanced between the two of them, a bemused look on his face.

"Oh. And what did _dear Vicky_ have to say?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the expression on his face conveying clear loathing of a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player. Hermione glared at him.

"Ron, why does it bother you so much that I'm in contact with him? We're just _friends_, Ronald. Pen pals. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Ron was somewhat relieved to hear this coming from Hermione's own mouth. At that moment, he realised that something he had been trying to deny in his own mind could not be ignored any longer, something that had almost been blurted from his own mouth after the Yule Ball. He fancied Hermione. He was just going to have to accept it.

_Tell her_, said the voice in his head, the voice that was always there, nagging him to do the right thing … the voice that, oddly enough, sounded somewhat like Hermione herself.

_I _can't_ tell her_, another voice said. This one was his own voice, the stubborn one that always argued with the sensible one.

_You can't keep going like _this_, fancying her in secret,_ nagged the Hermione voice. _Besides, what if she fancies you, too_?

This was getting ridiculous. He was arguing with his own head, and besides, Hermione would never like Ron any more than she liked Viktor, or Harry. "Shut up," Ron muttered to the voices, unaware that the words had actually left his mouth this time.

"Sorry?" Hermione's voice said, real this time. "What did you say, Ron?"

"W-what? Oh," Ron stuttered, realising he had been ignoring the other two for quite a while. "I said, erm, that's okay, then. I mean, if you're just friends and stuff. I mean, it's not like it would really, erm, matter, if you were more than … I just reckon he's a git, but I mean, it's okay …"

Ron, realising he was beginning to sound like quite a git himself, shut up.

Harry was staring at Ron with a very bewildered grin on his face, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

Hermione wondered the same thing.


	2. A Matter Of Privacy

**Chapter Two: A Matter of Privacy**

After the suspicious way he had acted that morning, Ron realised that he had to do something … but what?

Perhaps he could talk to Harry about it – no, even though he was Ron's best friend, Harry would probably laugh himself senseless at Ron's expense – come to think of it, Harry wasn't all that experienced with girls either. Besides, at the moment he was out on the Quidditch pitch, mucking around on his broom along with Dean and Seamus. They had invited Ron, but he had declined.

_What about Ginny_? Ron thought to himself. She _was_ a girl, after all … and she was his sister … and, even though she was a year younger than him, she was probably smarter … well, in the areas to do with feelings, anyway.

His mind made up, Ron got up from his chair in the common room to go and find his sister, and realised she was shopping in Hogsmeade with Hermione.

"Bloody hell, that's _that_ brilliant idea gone," Ron muttered to himself. Who else could he talk to? Someone who wouldn't ridicule him, someone who had a bit of experience with girls, someone like …

"Bill," Ron said aloud. Yes, that was it. He would write to Bill. His older brother was quite wise in the way of women – after all, he _did_ have a certain beautiful, French half-Veela after his heart.

Ron ran up to the dormitory for a quill and parchment, praying that when he got back to the common room it would still be empty. He was in luck – being Sunday, everyone had disappeared from Gryffindor Tower to enjoy their freedom before returning to the piles of school work that was sixth year.

Dipping his quill into an inkpot Ron wrote _Dear Bill,_ and paused, contemplating the different ways he could express his feelings as words.

_Dear Bill, what would you do if you fancied someone but didn't have a bloody clue how to tell her?_

Reading this over, Ron thought it was all right: clear and to the point. Until …

_No, be more direct. Tell him exactly who it is you fancy, it'll make a difference!_

The Hermione voice was back.

"Not you again," muttered Ron, realising shortly after he spoke that he was talking to a voice in his head and if anyone happened to see him, they would surely think he'd gone mad. Not entirely sure that he _hadn't_ gone mad, Ron decided to listen to the voice for once, and tried a different approach to the letter.

_Dear Bill,_

_Hi mate, it's me, Ron. How's everything going? Just the usual here at Hogwarts, except I'm in a bit of a mess and I need your advice so I won't make a completegit of myself.It's about a girl. Well she's one of my best mates, and I think I fancy her. Well,yeah, I do. It's Hermione, by the way. And I don't know how I'm supposed to tell her, and I thought you might have some advice – how are those private Englishlessons with Fleur going, by the way?So, if you could send back soon that'd be good, thanks, mate.Cheers,Ron._

Ron replaced his quill and sat back, re-reading the letter. True, he'd gone on a bit, but it was mostly to the point.

Suddenly, he heard laughter outside the portrait – girls' laughter … Hermione and Ginny's laughter. Cursing under his breath, Ron stashed the letter down the side of the armchair cushion, knocking over the bottle of ink in the process.

"Chocolate Frog," came Ginny's voice stating the password, and the two girls, still giggling, climbed through the portrait hole.

"Hey, Ron," Ginny greeted him, ruffling his already dishevelled hair. Hermione grinned at him and his stomach gave a jolt as if he had just eaten ten Peppermint Toads.

Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ink Ron had spilled, muttering, "Evanesco."

"Thanks," Ron said, grinning sheepishly.

"What happened, anyway, Ron?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, erm, late – late Potions essay. Just finished it and knocked over the bloody ink bottle."

He could tell that Ginny didn't believe him; she was looking at him curiously, but he shook his head very slightly, meaning, _tell you later._

"Well, I'm going up to the dorm – see you at dinner," Ron addressed the two girls, and left the common room.

"Yeah, I think I'll go upstairs for a bit too – coming, 'Mione?" Ginny asked.

"No, I think I'll stay here for a while," said Hermione, and after Ginny had exited the now-empty common room, she sat down in her favourite chair, the one Ron had been sitting in only a short while before.

Hermione intended to write in her diary, the one she kept hidden down the side of her favourite chair. She knew nobody would find it here, and even if they did, she had bewitched it with a complicated spell so that it could be read by her eyes only. Besides, she didn't want it left lying around in the girls' dorm, either – she didn't entirely trust Lavender and Parvati, who were her friends but always liked a good gossip.

However, as Hermione reached down the side of the armchair, the first thing she felt was not her diary, but a piece of parchment. Pulling it out, she looked down at it and saw that it was a letter. Glancing around the common room to make sure that it was indeed deserted, Hermione began to refold the letter, not wanting to intrude upon anyone's privacy by reading it. But before she could fold it completely, something caught her eye; the words _Cheers, Ron._

It was a letter from Ron, to – she checked the top of the letter – Bill. He hadn't been completing a Potions essay, after all.

_Read it,_ said a devious little voice in her head. _Go on. You know you want to._

_No,_ Hermione argued with herself. _No, I can't read it. It's Ron's private letter._

But then something else caught her eye. It was her own name, written there in the letter in Ron's messy handwriting, and Hermione knew that this was one matter of privacy she would have to intrude upon.


	3. What To Do?

**Chapter Three: What To Do? **

At dinner that night, Harry knew there was something up with Ron and Hermione. Both seemed distant and preoccupied, not speaking, seemingly lost in thought. Harry and Ginny exchanged bemused glances.

"What d'you reckon's up with them?" Harry whispered, jerking his head towards Ron, who was staring blankly at his food, and Hermione, who had a very slight smile on her face.

"No idea," murmured Ginny. Harry did not realise that Ginny wasn't being exactly truthful; she _did_ know what was going on, Hermione had told her and made her swear not to tell anyone else – yet. "Not even Harry, ok?" Hermione's voice echoed in her head.

Thankfully, Harry had seemingly given up on finding out what was going on, and was now vigorously finishing his shepherd's pie. Ginny smiled, and returned to her dinner.

Later that night, Hermione sat in the common room with Harry and Ginny. She was still thinking about the words in that letter … _she's one of my best mates, but I think I fancy her … it's Hermione …_

Hermione had been in a state of disbelief all night. _Ron fancied her._ However, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense … he _had_ burped slugs for a day, just because Malfoy insulted her … he _had_ gotten detention for defending her when Snape had criticised her … and after the Yule Ball, hadn't he basically said that he had wanted to take her to the ball?

"What are you smiling about?" Harry asked Hermione curiously. Hermione realised she'd probably had a stupid grin on her face for at least five minutes.

"Oh, erm, nothing," she said, glancing at Ginny and trying not to laugh. "Just thinking."

Ginny knew about the letter, of course; Hermione had told her right away. Ginny's reaction had been somewhat amusing; she had rolled around on the floor, laughing fit to burst and screeching, "I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

Presently, Hermione was wondering what to do. She fancied Ron too, of course; she pretty much always had, but she had been unsure whether her feelings were mutual until now. But how to tell him? Harry and Ron had always said that she was "good on feelings and stuff", but at the moment, Hermione had no clue as to what she was going to do.


	4. You Thought Right

**Chapter Four: You Thought Right**

Ron returned to the common room that night, after posting the letter to Bill, to find Harry and Ginny deep in discussion about who was to win the Quidditch World Cup this year, and Hermione staring into the fire.

"Hi, Ron," said Ginny. "Where have you been?"

"Just – just posting a letter," mumbled Ron. Hermione blinked.

"Um, Harry," said Ginny at once, yawning very convincingly indeed, "I reckon I might go to bed. I'm really tired, aren't you?"

"What? Oh," said Harry, also yawning, but not quite as believably as Ginny, "yeah, I'm exhausted. 'Night, you two."

And without another word, Ginny and Harry disappeared up to their dormitories, leaving Ron and Hermione quite alone.

There was an awkward silence, then –

"Ron, I – "

"Hermione, I'm – "

Both of them grinned shyly. "You first," said Ron.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, then took a deep breath and said simply, "I read the letter."

Ron looked extremely taken aback. "What – you mean – I'm – you – "

Hermione put a gentle hand over his mouth. They were standing now, facing each other. Ron fell silent, his ears red and his face colouring slowly. His eyes were downcast.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I know you don't like me any more than a friend, I just – well, I thought – "

The slight smile was back on Hermione's face. "You thought there was a chance I just might fancy you, too?"

Ron looked up in surprise. Before he had a chance to say anything, Hermione had taken his face in her hands and kissed him.

"You thought right," she said.


	5. Epilogue: Bill's Letter

**Epilogue – Bill's Letter**

_Dear Ron,_

_All I can say is, HA! I KNEW IT!!_

_Well, seriously mate, there's nothing else you really can do besides tell her straight. Unless of course she tells you that she fancies _you_ first, though – 'cause I'm pretty sure that she does. Well, good luck anyway!_

_Cheers,_

_ Bill_

_P.S. Fleur's English is coming along very well, thanks. _


End file.
